Cherry Wine

[Quinn Woods]

A live band, a quiet bar and a drink to wash down the stress of two weeks back in Montana. She missed Europe, she missed the elegance of the people there, the way they carried themselves. In America, she had always noticed that people slouched and weren't as postured as they were elsewhere which only made this country seem much less poised and much less appealing to Quinn. She loved the foreign outlook of things and wondered if that was why she was the way that she was. She had been born in England but most of her life had been spent in America. She walked gracefully, held herself high and talked with a purpose rather than to just hear herself speak.

With a sigh, she fingered the rim of her glass, the liquid in it matching the red of her lips. Tonight was meant to be relaxing, perhaps a little fun, though it had been a while since she'd done anything fun. Her mind was always so focused on work, a true workaholic to her core, and rarely did she do anything for herself. The worst part was that she hadn't had any decent male company since she returned to Montana, except for one strange man she met in the library, but she'd hardly count that since nothing exciting came of it.

Quinn sipped her wine and brushed her tongue across her lower lip, glancing around at the other people in the bar. There were quite a few, though it wasn't packed the way the clubs usually were. The music was soft, like a hum and she found it comforting. On the dance floor all she noticed were couples swaying and gliding with the music, their bodies in rhythm with each other. It was fascinating and exciting, but she stayed close to the bar, as she was alone with no one to sweep her off her feet that way.

[Jamie McCarthy]

Naturally, Jamie had already noticed the blonde; He was well versed in that. Specifically sorting out lonesome girls in a bar. Well, the girl didn't strike him as his usual type; the barfly. But something about the girl's expression made him single her out regardless.

She was pretty too and not in any traditional sense of the word. No, she looked as if she belonged in the age of vikings. With her golden tendrils and striking eyes. She was busty, too, but not fat. She wasn't scrawny, like most of the women of 2018 were, which pleased him. Jamie liked a woman with a little more on her bones than just skin.

"Don't look so glum, Princess," he said as he took a seat beside her, ordering himself a glass of rum and coke. "Isn't this supposed to be the time of your life?" he continued, offering the girl a sideways glance once his drink was placed in front of him. "You should enjoy your youth while you still can, luv."

[Quinn Woods]

A voice stirred her from her trance, staring at the twirling people and she glanced to the side. After giving him a quick once over, she noted that he was Irish with the most captivating blue eyes she'd come across she thought ever. He was gorgeous, there was no doubt. His words caused her to quirk one side of her mouth upwards. He called her a princess, but what he didn't know about her was that she was more of a maid that did the dirty work, though she held herself like royalty might.

Quinn pulled her hair over her shoulder and turned her chin towards him, "I'm more of an observer than part of the crowd." She'd always stood on the outskirts, even if her looks could score her top spot in the popular bunch. It wasn't that she couldn't be part of the crowd, she chose not to be because it made her uncomfortable. She was reserved, and quiet and most of the time people found her a little too intimidating to befriend, which was the only reason she might have seemed like a lonely woman at a bar rather than an independent woman who was just having a drink to unwind.

It also might have had something to do with the longing looks towards the dance floor, but she wouldn't admit it.

"How about you? Why aren't you out there enjoying your youth, sir?" She asked with a trace of a smile. Quinn took another sip of her wine and turned her eyes back towards the dance floor. The music was starting to pick up and the graceful dancing had ceased and turned into grinding and gyrating. Her nose scrunched up and she looked down at her glass.

[Jamie McCarthy]

"Ah," he nodded as he took a sip from his drink. "Sounds awful lonely, aye?" He couldn't help but grinning at his own words. After all, he wasn't much of a people person himself. Well, at least not long term. The only consistent thing in his life was his nephew, whom he only met every once every couple of years, so that was probably saying a lot about his ability to commit. Not that the pretty young lady had to know, of course.

The blonde's question had Jamie chuckling. He rubbed his chin as he turned, drink still in his hand. He looked over the dance floor. "What can I say? You know us lads from the green island; We're not exactly graceful." Besides, he felt a little too old to hit the dance floor on some club, filled with people in their early thirties.

He turned his attention back to the blonde. "Besides, if I was busy dancing, how would I be able to enjoy talking to you?" 

[Quinn Woods]

"Perhaps, but I don't mind being alone. It's comforting to some degree," Quinn offered a shrug, not noting the way he smiled. It wasn't as though she'd have understood what it was about anyway. Quinn's problem with commitment wasn't that she didn't want to, it was more that she grew bored of people quickly. If there was nothing exciting to hold her, she lost interest and eventually just slipped away from them. She wasn't one for causing a scene, she didn't do confrontation, she just said her piece and walked away from whoever it was that she was involved with. Long-term relationships had never been something she was good at and she wasn't sure she ever would be good at it.

For the time being though, this man in front of her was holding her attention. If anything, his accent fascinated her and was enough to keep her occupied for a while. "I'm sure with the right partner you could become graceful. It's a matter of fluidity and matching the rhythm of your partner." Not that she was much into dancing, but she could hold her own in the basics. And her words, though they might have insinuated some flirtation, she hadn't meant them to. It was a statement of fact.

His words on the other hand seemed quite flirty and she looked at him as he said it. "That does pose a bit of an issue, doesn't it? Well unless I suppose if I was your dance partner. However, the sort of dancing that's happening now is most definitely not my strong suit." Nor did she even really like it.

[Jamie McCarthy]

"Mm," he replied, nodding slowly as he absorbed her words. He could relate to that, of course. Though, Jamie grew restless quickly if there was nothing going around him for a long period of time. He enjoyed life, which also meant life that went on around him. Maybe that was why he enjoyed spending time with his nephew, Jack. Jack was, well, extremely lively and energetic. You could never quite tell where his mind headed and what kind of crazy antics he'd come up with next. Jamie wanted his life to be interesting.

Chuckling softly, Jamie pursed his lips, still watching the young woman. "Is that so? Sounds like you know a lot more about the subject than I ever will, luv." He offered her a smile though, he saw no reason to offer the young woman any ill will. She'd done nothing to deserve it.

Grinning in response, Jamie took another sip of his drink, pulling his lips back over his teeth as he savored the taste of the spiced rum. He was far too old to dance like that, though, he'd never admit it. No, Jamie was still clinging to whatever was left of his youth. "I have to agree with you on that," he said. He could admit that much. "I do a mean swing, though," he quickly added with a wink.

[Quinn Woods]

"Hardly," Quinn smiled back. She was by no means a dancer, although she was sure her mother would have loved it if she were. Quinn could just hold her own in the basic mechanics of dancing. It was easy enough to sway and move around a dance floor, twirling and dipping. The lifts and complicated foot work however was not on her list of things she wanted to learn. It was too much work, too much to think about while still trying to enjoy the music. And wasn't that the point of dancing, enjoying the music with body movements?

Quinn was more practiced in control, and the gyrating that went on on the dance floor was not controlled. It was raw and emotional and, well, sexual. The truth of the matter was that Quinn didn't quite understand the purpose of looking as though a pair was having intercourse right in the middle of the dance floor. Sure, it riled them up before the act itself when they left, but it was disgusting and improper. Sex was meant for private times, not in the middle of everything.

His comment had her looking back at him and she smiled, "Is that right? I personally don't think I could imagine you doing any kind of dancing. Except perhaps the typical 'manly' sway." It was a joke, though sometimes she felt as though she came off pretentious, like she was downgrading everyone when she spoke. With that thought she cleared her throat and quickly tacked on, "I'm joking, for the record. I'm sure you swing just fine."

[Jamie McCarthy]

Regardless of how much the woman wanted to deny it, Jaime could clearly figure out ways her body would work perfectly out on the dance floor, though he knew better than to share. Not all women enjoyed having their bodies objectified. Especially not the first time they met a man. Now, as much as Jaime enjoyed flirting, it didn't mean he enjoyed getting slapped quite as much.

Even so, Jaime was a simple man. As much as he wanted to deny it, he still belonged to the older generation and had he been able to read the girl's thoughts, he'd agree with her. Dancing could be quite sexy without having to grind up against your partner. There was something quite classy and beautiful about a waltz or swing. More of a comfortable and mature kind of sexy, really.

A wicked grin colored the man's lips at the blonde's witty response and within seconds, a chuckle bubbled through his lips. "Don't judge a book by its cover, lassie," he told her, still smiling wickedly. "People might surprise you."